I Know Why You Hate Me
by adafrog
Summary: Kara walks in to see her mother at the kitchen table.


Title: I Know Why You Hate Me

Author: adafrog

Rating: M for adult themes

Warnings: child abuse

Spoilers: none, pre-mini

Summary: She walks in to find her mother waiting for her in the kitchen.

A/N: I wrote this to help me figure out Kara's history. Why Kara stayed with her mother. She had to have had dad with her for long enough to make her sane, but short enough to really frak her up. And why she still adores her dad, even though he supposedly left.

She walks in to find her mother waiting for her in the kitchen. No bottle or glass in sight, which is bad because she's got better aim when she's sober. The only thing on the table is partially covered by a hand. Kara can't make out what it is until she gets closer.

"How dare you go into my room!" she screams, incensed.

Her mother looks at her, cold stare drilling into Kara. She places both hands on the edge of the table, and slowly stands up. "You ungrateful little bitch! This is MY house-you're lucky I let you stay here!"

Kara knows this is going to go bad, but she can't think past the object on the table. "How did you find it?" she asked, grinding out the words, "How did you get past the lock?"

Her mother moves quickly around the table to stand glaring into her daughter's eyes. The broiling anger builds, and she almost screams, but stops. She backhands Kara across the room, into the refrigerator.

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The first time he said it to her, she's eight years old. She's sitting in her room, rocking back and forth, sobbing over his picture. After one too many arguments, he's leaving. He spoke to her before he left, but she doesn't remember much after the shock of his first words. She can hear her mother in the background screaming obscenities, yelling at him to just leave, breaking glass, tearing up pictures, sobbing.

Over her own sobbing, she doesn't hear when her mother comes into her room. Only when the picture is ripped from her hands does she realize her mother is standing next to her. She turns, following the picture, and faces her mother, shrinking back when she does so. The look in her eyes is frightening. So dark, and cold, and-something she's never really seen before, something that makes Kara want to cower.

"Crying over some man, are you?" Her mouth turns cruelly. "He left us! He left us for that tramp at the club! He doesn't love you. He never did. He will never come back. You're stupid if you think he will. Stupid, stupid little girl." She snatches the photo out of reach, and starts tearing it into tiny pieces with big, exaggerated movements.

Kara sobs even harder, trying to save the picture from her mother's wrath. Trying to save the one thing she has left of him. She sucks in a terrified breath as her mother slaps her, hard.

Her mother laughs at her, and sprinkles the pieces of picture over Kara's small form. "You're just like him," she spits, and walks out.

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She opens her eyes, and sees two people in front of her. After closing them a few times, she finally gets her eyes in focus, and sees only one woman. Judging from the look on her face, her mother is not done with her. She thinks of her father. "It's mine," she forces past her swelling lips.

Seething, her mother grabs a fistful of hair and hauls her up. "You own nothing. You never will. Wanna know why..." she sickly-sweetly asks, moving her hands down to clench Kara's arms. "Because you are nothing," slams her against the refrigerator. "You never will be." Slams her harder. "You are a bastard child who is just as worthless as her bastard father." Slams her even harder, then abruptly lets go.

Kara's head hurts, but she doesn't mind. It helps her concentrate, helps her stay focused. "He's not worthless."

She laughs in Kara's face. A bitter, harsh laugh that leaves nothing behind but a chill. "Look at you. Still standing up for him after all this time. Did he ever come back for you! Never! Did you think he was going to save you? Did you think you were worth saving?" She almost gives a look of pity before her features contort once again, back into a cold sneer. "He was nothing before I met him, and he was nothing after. Running off with some tramp, away from his family. Do you think that's worthy of something! He'd still be nothing, except, oh, wait, he died, didn't he? Died in some little shithole motel, tramp already gone, looking for the next free ride. She probably helped him overdose."

"It wasn't drugs. He never did drugs! He was sick!" Kara felt the anger roiling within her. "He didn't have the problem, you had the problem. You were the addict. You still are!"

The refrigerator door dents easily under her mother's fist. She shakes her hand, eyes following Kara's progress around the room. Waiting for her to stop, planning the next assault. "You have no idea what it's like dealing with a little slut like you, day after day, year after year. I feed you, I clothe you, I send your stupid little ass to school, and all you can think about is your precious little daddy, who never did anything for you!"

Kara rolls her eyes, she's heard this before. She knows her mother is working her towards the corner, so she stops. It's better not to get stuck; at least in the open she can avoid some of the blows. She recites with her mother, "you should have gotten rid of me before I was born. I've ruined everything." The roteness of it makes her drop her guard for just a second, but it's long enough to receive a punch to the gut. Blackness moves in on her.

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The second time she heard it she's twelve. She's only seen her dad a few times; he spends months on the road and in recording studios. He doesn't send letters anymore, but she's not upset-her mother tore up the ones he did send before she could read them. The only reason she even knows about them is because she's the one who takes out the trash.

She's lying in a hospital bed with her arm in a cast. Balloons and flowers on the table say her class is sorry she fell down the stairs. Cards strewn about contain jokes about her clumsiness. She doesn't mind-if they knew, it would be worse. If they knew, there would be looks of pity. If they knew, they would avoid her, because that's what they do to 'those kids,' and she couldn't stand that; they are the only ones who make her feel real. If they knew, they might tell someone in a misguided attempt to help her, but they will never take her away from her mother; she doesn't know why, but she knows.

Her mother is out, probably at the bar down the street. She trusts Kara to not say anything other than the usual story, she knows better. She knows the story by heart.

Her dad walks in, surprising her with a stuffed bear from the gift shop. His smile is loving, his eyes are sad. He puts her in shock a second time, telling her he's not going to see her again. He keeps tabs on her-no, can't say who through-and knows that it gets much, much worse after his visits. It's getting dangerous for her, this time was only a few hours after he had dropped her off. He wants her to be safe, he wants his little girl to be whole. What if the next time it's permanent?

No, she can't come with him. He would love nothing better, but he's sick, you see. He didn't want to tell her, but he needs her to understand, it's not because he doesn't want her; he's always wanted her, never forget that. He loves her, but he's not well, and the treatments have been hard; please remember he will love her forever. Please be his good girl, and stay with her mother; he doesn't want her on the streets. He wants her to grow into the woman he knows she will be-smart, beautiful, perfect.

He wraps his arms around her in a tight hug that is over far too soon. He kisses her on the forehead, and starts to walk out. At the door he turns, looks in her eyes. He tells her he will always watch over her; don't forget, even if he's with the Lords of Kobol, he will be there.

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She fights off the darkness, shaking her head. It makes the headache worse, but brings back the room. And her mother, who has moved closer to her, watching her intently. "I know why you hate me," her speech slurs a little. She slides down the cabinet to the floor. Looking back up, she fixes her mother with a smirk. "You were wrong. You said he'd never come back for me, and you were wrong. You chased him away, but he always loved me. He always will."

Instead of kicking her, this time her mother just stood there, white hot anger evident on her face. She huffs, then mumbles, "nothing gets through to you."

Kara is so stunned to see her walk off, she doesn't move. This isn't how it goes; her mother never just leaves. She's not sure what to do. Not until she sees her mother walk back in with the hammer.

The horrific scream fills the room, bringing the hairs up on her mother's neck but doesn't stop her. She brings it down again, and again, as hard as she possibly can. Pounding-the table nearly breaks under the force. "You think you're so smart?" She screams in between blows. "You think he loves you?" Slams it down. "You think this," she stops long enough to point at the pulverized tape, "is for you?" Slams it again. "Nobody loves you!" She hurls the hammer away from her.

For once, her mother has shocked her. She can't move. Doesn't defend herself as her mother grabs her arm and twists it savagely. Doesn't cry out as she's drug down the stairs, into the basement. She greets the darkness as it envelops her.

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Later that night, she crawls up the stairs and listens carefully at the door. Luckily the wire is where she left it under the step, so she grabs it and works the lock. She looks out first, then moves slowly through the room to the trash. At first, she doesn't find it, and starts to panic. Breathing hard, she starts yanking things out, onto the floor. With a sob, she finds it at the bottom of the can. She carefully pulls it out, wipes it on her shirt, then replaces the trash.

Back down in the basement, she holds it to her chest while she cries. It's the only thing she has of him, and she can't let it go. Can't let him go, because her mother is wrong. He loved her, he still loves her. She turns on a small flashlight so she can read it again. Slightly soiled, and a little torn, it is still recognizable as the recording label from the tape. On the back is printed the words she knows by heart.

To my number one woman, I'll love you always.


End file.
